One week at number one on w/e 25th May 1985
Synth-pop had been a dominant presence in the singles chart through the early eighties, with everyone from old hands (Kraftwerk) to populist pioneers (Human League, OMD) to latecomers and shape-shifting chancers spilling hits out of their keyboards.
1984 felt as if it had been, primarily thanks to Trevor Horn, the year of the Fairlight, taking the original pulsing rinky-dink tunesmithery to a grander, more explosive level. By 1985, though, strange things had begun to brew and the revenge of the “proper musician” was afoot. Most of the successful synth acts either took breaks, or went slightly mad and/or began to go off the boil, becoming exposed to reduced album sales and less prominent singles chart positions.
The number ones of the year tell a tale of huge productions and big ballads from mature artists with synths only being used subtly in the mix. Honourable exceptions here are Dead or Alive, Midge Ure and Eurythmics, but even in the latter two cases there was a sense of a slick maturity emerging; more emotive and less artful and playful (in particular, Ure’s “If I Was” contained lyrics somewhere between a couple of snippets of “Your Song” and a twee romantic Athena poster poem. It certainly meant nothing to me, anyway). 1985 felt like the year all the heartbreak songs and wedding slow dance songs were created en masse, with Jennifer Rush’s “The Power Of Love” doing the platinum honours for biggest selling single of the year.
Numerous factors (including Live Aid) have been blamed for this wave of earnestness, but whatever the true reasons, Depeche Mode were catapulting a fresh single into a strangely unsympathetic marketplace. When they launched in 1981, tracks with synths were almost guaranteed some attention, no matter how quirky, gimmicky or even experimental they were. By 1985, nobody seemed to want plucky electronic bedroom stars; they wanted old-fashioned pop stars again with serious session players behind them. A few seasoned performers seemed to relish this situation. “I don’t like Spandau Ballet or Depeche Mode”, Mick Jagger archly sneered on television at the time, seemingly mistakenly believing them to be similar acts (or people who gave a shit what he thought).
It was in this environment that Depeche Mode released arguably one of their finest singles, only to see it slowly crawl up the bottom end of the Top 40 to an undeservingly low number 18 peak. This state of affairs is one reason why its seldom heard these days; another is that it was orphaned from a proper studio album, instead being one of the two fresh tracks on their compilation “Singles 81-85”, released later that autumn. Shorn of a surrounding conceptual environment and used only as a teaser track for fans who already owned most of the band’s work, it’s always looked a little lost among their other releases.
The single feels like the first time the band have managed to celebrate and combine all their strengths. The gentle breathy intro feels as if it’s borrowed some of the pop shine of “See You”, but after a few bars of that we’re treated to harsher metallic clangs (possibly from a shopping trolley?) in the background, a pulsing, grumbling bassline, and a melancholic, minimal two note synth line. This is followed by Gahan’s opening line “I’m not going down on my knees begging you to adore me”, which sounds rather too drastically lovelorn, almost worthy of Jennifer Rush, until the context becomes clear: “I’ve tried as hard as I could/ to make you see/ how important it is for me”. This isn’t desperation on his part – it’s exhaustion. The chorus is clearer still: “You know how hard it is for me/ to shake the disease/ that takes a hold of my tongue/ in situations like these”.
Melody Maker’s Caroline Sullivan was quick to stick the knife into the single for this reason alone, describing it as the sentiments of “football hooligans as sensitive wimps” in a tart review (do football hooligans usually wear make-up and leather in the manner of Martin Gore, I wonder?) Even if the ideas expressed left her cold, though, the song blankets itself in some of the most complex arrangements of their career. The melodies constantly find new ways to twist themselves around the central hook, dropping out and re-emerging again with new force and intricacy, flowering with every repetition of the chorus rather than letting matters settle. By the point of the outro, the song feels ambitiously busy but not breathless, fading just as all the ideas unite. Even the shopping trollies sound somehow romantic when they’re up close next to that bold cello sound.
Not everyone in the group remembers it as a remarkable achievement. When being interviewed by Sound on Sound in January 1998, Alan Wilder commented: “I can remember one particular sound we created for 'Shake The Disease'. The part itself was virtually moronic. It was so simple it was unbelievable; a two-note riff. And we ended up using 24 sounds layered on top of each other, every sound in the orchestra! These, of course, all then cancelled each other out, and the end result sounded like a sine wave! That epitomised how far up your arse you could go.”
Even if some things they tried didn’t quite come off, though (and I’d never noticed the sine wave until now, proving that Wilder’s comment seems to be more borne of frustration about the dull waste of studio time) the group and Daniel Miller’s willingness to try so many ideas out in a tight four-minute space mostly worked magnificently. “Shake The Disease” is the birth of Depeche Mode as a different kind of synth-pop band; a bunch of darkly weary, tongue-tied old romantics who may have been shut out of 1985’s Live Aid hoopla, but would have truly shocked the world had they been given the opportunity to perform there.
In the meantime, they slid into becoming a bit of a cult secret in the UK with an adoring fanbase, the kind of group whose singles peak in the charts on the first or second week of sale before bailing out again. For as fantastically and unquestionably Pop as “Shake The Disease” is – for all its subtleties and intricacies, it still has a machete sharp chorus – this marked the beginning of their new phase as a much more rounded and interesting group. Mature, but not in a literal sense, and not in the “Q magazine” sense of the phrase either. The world they were about to enter was entirely their own. The rest of Europe took them to its bosom at this point, recognising that something special was happening. The UK let them go.
New Entries Elsewhere In The Charts
21. New Model Army - The Price (Abstract)
Peak position: 21
As the group signed to EMI and began to be given a fresh wave of hype by the “Greatest Recording Company In The World” (TM), 1984’s “The Price” snuck back into the indie charts again, dragged along by the undertow. It remains a fine and uncharacteristically sinister piece of work by the Bradford group, but buttered no parsnips with the friends they left behind – Conflict were so moved by their involvement with a label whose parent company funded nuclear arms research that they released “Only Stupid Bastards Help EMI” on their own “Model Army” label.
26. Latin Quarter - Radio Africa (Rockin' Horse)
Peak position: 16
Another bogus indie chart entry as Rockin’ Horse records were distributed by CBS.
Ignoring that trifling matter for a few minutes, though, “Radio Africa” is arguably one of the most earnest records of modern times, combining its Nine O Clock News tears with some carefully mannered arrangements. Shocked and enfeebled lead vocals mesh with polite, hushed female backing vocals, and some muffled Pino Palladino styled basslines which are made to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher saying “wah wah wah” to an uncomprehending and stupid world. There’s a cod reggae beat too, making this a mash-up of styles, an overwhelming seriousness of cultural nods.
The whole song slides into your ears like a whisper on the breeze, and it is, shall we say, an acquired taste. My best friend at school dubbed it “The worst record anyone has recorded ever” and wouldn’t shut up about how much he hated it, while various mature journalists remarked upon its bold-hearted message and spirit and its undeniable uniqueness. The lyrics are certainly more savage than the arrangement that surrounds them - “They've still got trouble with a monster in the South/ Heads buried deep in that lion's mouth/ Like a jaw snapped shut, it keeps them apart/ If that jaw got broken it would be a start” the group neatly proclaim, so quietly that it could almost be missed.
Still, it was a number 19 hit in the official charts, which it almost certainly wouldn’t have been if an anarcho-punk band had tried to get the same message across. If there’s one thing groups in 1985 seemed to understand, it was that concealing an iron fist in a velvet glove of smooth arrangements was often the only way of getting a challenging message into the Top 40.
30. Adult Net - Incense And Peppermints (Beggars Banquet)
Peak position: 22
Brix Smith’s arrival in The Fall had revitalised the group, tightening up their looser and flabbier edges and occasionally dosing some of their more discordant material with a lump of Hersheys. The group neither sold out as a result nor lost any fans; instead, the albums from “The Wonderful and Frightening World” to “Kurious” were (generalising slightly here) subtly different, noticeably warmer affairs, sometimes containing one song that sounded as if it could be a hit in a very quiet January week.
Surprisingly early on in her career with them, she adopted the Adult Net name and stole The Fall’s personnel (minus Mark E Smith) for this cover version of Strawberry Alarm Clock’s sharply twee bit of fluffy paisley pop. Interestingly, I find it to be much more interesting and appealing than the original. Brix’s vocals are considerably most playful and dreamy than Michael Luciano’s overly dry barking, and The Fall’s backing and John Leckie’s production are both as sharp, parodical and liberty taking as you’d expect. By the time the phasing finally emerges, nobody should be surprised by it.
Leckie was about to go into the studio to record XTC’s album as the spoof psychedelic group The Dukes of Stratosphear, so this 45 doubtless enabled him to get some early practice in.
Number One In The Official Charts
Paul Hardcastle: "19" (Chrysalis)
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